


capture me in eternity

by raviiel



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Body Worship, Boys in Skirts, Crossdressing, M/M, Photographer Suh Youngho | Johnny, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Voyeurism, cameras are involved, it's lucas who has it who the hell else is it going to be of COURSE he has it, johnny loves his pretty boyfriend, summer vibez, this was an excuse for me to write lucas in a skirt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 17:27:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30008382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raviiel/pseuds/raviiel
Summary: "We don't have to do this if you don't want, babe." He approaches the door with attentive steps, letting the camera hang, and raises his own fingertips to carefully grace at the others. "I know you look good, though."An audible deep, shaky breath seeps out from the other side. Fingers shuffle over his, unsure.He lets it linger a moment, and then gently smooths his hand to the tucked wrist, loosely wrapping his fingers. The wrist turns and the hand grabs his own, and he takes it as the sign that it is; he pulls, and the door creaks open, slow, loud, slow. He blinks."Wow," he breathes out.
Relationships: Suh Youngho | Johnny/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	capture me in eternity

"You sure about this?" asks a meek, muffled voice from inside the closet door.

Johnny huffs a laugh, not unkindly. "I think the question is, are _you_ sure about this?" The lens clicks into place on a camera attached to the strap loose around his neck. "You've been in there a while now." He goes over to the curtains to adjust them for better—but not obtrusive, his subject is already nervous as it is—lighting, letting it hit the bed just right.

"I just..." The door creaks open slightly and fingers curl out around the edge, long, tight, and nervous. "I feel weird..."

Johnny frowns. "We don't have to do this if you don't want, babe." He approaches the door with attentive steps, letting the camera hang, and raises his own fingertips to carefully grace at the others. "I know you look good, though."

An audible deep, shaky breath seeps out from the other side. Fingers shuffle over his, unsure.

He lets it linger a moment, and then gently smooths his hand to the tucked wrist, loosely wrapping his fingers. The wrist turns and the hand grabs his own, and he takes it as the sign that it is; he pulls, and the door creaks open, slow, loud, slow. He blinks.

"Wow," he breathes out.

In the brighter light of the closet stands Yukhei, head ducked. A baby pink shirt wraps his torso like a second skin and cuts away just above his midriff, and the smooth planes of abdomen muscle slide into narrow hips, hugged by the soft white fabric of a pleated skirt that hangs loose around his upper midthighs. The rest is just... tan legs for days that make the skirt seem shorter than it actually is.

Yukhei shifts his weight, peeking up to gauge Johnny's reaction.

"How... How do I look?"

Johnny's other hand slides, horizontal from the defined divots of his abdomen to his waist, fingers toying with the hem of the skirt, palm too warm against Yukhei's skin. Their eyes meet.

"Gorgeous, as always."

A bashful smile splits over Yukhei's lips, radiant and gorgeous like everything else about him. He shyly laces their fingers and steps out of the closet, leading the way back to the bed.

"C'mon, I wanna... You know. Is the light good?"

At the bed's edge, he lets go. Johnny watches him climb on, entranced by how effortlessly every one of his long limbs moves and the gentle swish of the skirt around his thighs. It rises further up his skin as he twists around, and the snug fabric of the soft pink shirt clings to his corded muscles, leaving very little to the imagination. This will be the end of him, undoubtedly.

He swallows thickly when Yukhei lounges back towards the head of the bed, resting on his palms, legs bent up and spread enough for the skirt to dip between them. Whatever underwear he's got on—if any—must be tiny as hell for the way skin runs uninterrupted into the white fabric. Still, the light streaming in from the linen curtains breaks from the wall of his back, and Johnny reaches down to clasp around his ankle, fingers closing on translucent floral-print white socks where the fabric ends. He pulls.

"Here, lay back. Just," He climbs onto the bed too, careful of the camera's weight as it shallowly pendulums, and uses his hold on Yukhei's ankle to guide him into laying, standing between Yukhei's legs on his own knees. Yukhei follows, biting an inner corner of his bottom lip, muscles tense.

With his back out of the way, sunlight streaks over him in a thick, buttery stripe, casting at the slightest diagonal from the wooden headboard all the way down to the ankle opposite of the one in Johnny's grip. It lovingly highlights his skin in tones of gold, almost glittering on him, and gleams over the gelled up strands of his black hair and glimmers off his lovely pink mouth. At this rate, Johnny will literally pass out. His grip on Yukhei's ankle tightens.

"I'll take that as a good sign?" Yukhei asks, trying to figure out what his arms should do while batting sunlight out of the eye it shines on. "Johnny?"

Johnny blinks, now acutely aware of Yukhei's—everything. How he's splayed across the bed, knees still raised, arms unsure of how to rest. His tension, how the muscles of his neck shift under the—the white string looped around it a few times before it knots into a neat little bow with every nervous swallow he takes. The faint tremble of his lips, his fluttering hands.

"The best, baby," Johnny murmurs reverently, and leans over to grab the restless wrists before adjusting his own position to avoid falling over and knocking them both unconscious with the camera. He lifts his leg to brace his foot on the bed outside of Yukhei's hip, and then concentrates on positioning Yukhei's arms. His core works overtime to keep him from toppling as he focuses on anything but how Yukhei's dewy eyes intently watch while their faces are just a foot apart.

The quiet of the room cradles the meticulous minutes he spends adjusting Yukhei's arms until he decides on what he likes best, only broken up by their breathing that fills the loaded space between them.

"There," he finally says, straightening."Stay like that."

Yukhei's arms are now raised above his head, one higher than the other with his forearms rested on the hill of pillows, palms upturned and fingers twitchy over the glossy strands of his hair. Johnny glances at where the sleeves of the shirt cut off. His mouth dries.

"You shaved?"

Pink tints Yukhei's cheeks. He swallows thickly, the choker shifting again.

"I thought—" Swallows again. "I mean... Thought it would be nice... Do you—?"

"Do you like it?" Johnny asks before he can.

Yukhei glances away. "I did it for this—for you," he says quietly.

Endearment pulls at Johnny's lips. "You didn't have to."

"I wanted to."

He shrugs. "Can't argue with that, I guess." He trails a finger down the soft inner flesh near the hem of the sleeve. Yukhei squirms.

"I," his breath trembles. His eyelids drag closed and open once. "C'mon. We're losing daylight."

Johnny snorts. "Not _that_ fast. You can just say you're eager."

Yukhei scowls. "Fuck you."

"I'm working on it."

And he is. His pants have gotten exponentially tighter since that closet door opened. He pauses.

"...Is that the only place?"

Yukhei's eyes flicker back to his, bold. "You're gonna have to find out, huh?"

His nostrils flare in a half-shuddered breath, and he stops from palming himself, choosing to grip the camera instead. "Guess I will." He raises it to his eye and spies Yukhei through he lens, twisting to adjust the focus.

When Yukhei and all of his sharp angles and softened edges phase crystal clear into Johnny's eye, he says, "Alright. However you want."

At first, Yukhei looks directly into the lens. Johnny snaps on instinct, and the shudder click drags Yukhei's tongue across his lips. He snaps again, and then zooms in until Yukhei's eyes are cut out of the frame, only leaving the slope of his nose to guide the eye to his lips newly parted by a weighted breath. _Snap._ Johnny zooms out.

He adjusts his own angle and sees the light fall across Yukhei's face, shimmering off one eye and making it glint like a warm, honeyed gem. Yukhei isn't looking into the lens now, fingers flexing above his head in uncertainty. _Snap_ _—_ demure captured in eternity. The frame pans down from Yukhei's eyes and nose, holding his lips close to its glass, the sharp line of his jaw, the shadows playing over the shifting muscles of his neck braced by white string. Yukhei's adam's apple bobs. _Snap._

His chest has started to heave heavier and heavier, the shirt straining against his pectorals and its pink brazenly flaunting his pebbled nipples where only one is lit in the ray of sunlight. _Snap._ Johnny's fingers tighten on the camera so they won't go where they're being tempted. It only lasts until he reaches where the shirt ends.

One hand automatically drops to the planes of Yukhei's abdomen—Yukhei shivers at the touch, a noise restrained in the back of his throat. Johnny watches his hand through the lens, splayed wide off to the side of Yukhei's belly button, and his fingers creep under the hem of pink; a soft shirt enfolding equally soft skin. It's hot to the touch, edging on feverish, and he can feel the twitch of muscles under his palm. _Snap._

From the hem of the shirt, to the hem of the skirt.

"Johnny," Yukhei suddenly murmurs, hands snared into fists above his head as he tries not to jerk. It almost sounds like a whine.

"They're turning out good," Johnny replies casually. "We can go through them later, if you want." He peeks over the camera to see Yukhei's eyes, rich and darling, darken.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he breathes fervently. He looks back down to where his thumb to pinkie finger stretch along the band of the skirt from the center. The way his hand almost spans the entirety of the front of Yukhei's waist roils low in his belly. That's—fuck. _Snap._ He pulls back from the camera, its weight making his arm tremble.

The pleated hem of the skirt is now tucked into the crevices of Yukhei's bent-up thighs, hiding none of the small skin and only barely any of what's between them. Johnny hadn't noticed before, but the skin here is smooth too, hairless. Smells faintly of citrus—lemon.

"Really went all out, huh?" His voice is uneven, and even though the scent is more of a phantom, it makes him feel heady, his perception of the world narrowing down to solely Yukhei so rapidly that it's disorienting. He becomes acutely aware of the faint outline in the skirt.

"Wanted to look good for the camera," Yukhei mumbles. _Wanted to look good for you._

"You always do, sweetheart."

Johnny can't stop his fingers from creeping into the skirt, immediately meeting the curved hem of what feels like thin cotton. Yukhei's legs part further. Johnny quickly raises the camera before he loses the sight to his crumbling will. _Snap._ It's obscene—he know it'll look obscene, his hand snaking up a skirt to a faceless body. Burned into his lens, burned into his brain.

His fingers slowly, _slowly_ trail inwards until they caress the bulge—Yukhei breathes in sharply, hips twitching in a repressed buck. His hand tents the skirt even more. _Snap_ _—_ a forearm traveling through the valley of smooth, citrus-scented thighs.

He grabs Yukhei's cock through the soft cotton, no preamble. Yukhei gasps, hands finally breaking away from above his head to slam into the bed sheets at his sides.

"I can't anymore," Yukhei rasps on the verge of tears. His knuckles are white, almost enough to match the bedding. "Johnny—Hyung, _please."_

Johnny swallows thickly and presses closed his eyelids for a long second, stars dancing in the black and citrus tingling in his throat. He blinks open again and glances at the number in the corner of the digital screen.

_Should be enough for now._

Careful and all too deliberate, he retracts his hand and pulls the camera off around his neck. Yukhei whines at the loss but stifles the sound when Johnny bodily leans over him, bracing himself on one forearm next to Yukhei's head to set the camera down onto the nightstand. He tilts his head downwards.

Though the light has shifted, Yukhei's eyes still luster in honey at him, big, round, and pleading—glassy, doll-like. Johnny shifts backwards and lowers his hips in a sudden grind that makes Yukhei's mouth drop open in a choked moan. He tilts his head down for his lips to grace the shell of Yukhei's ear.

"Can't anymore? You want it so bad, huh. Want me to keep putting my hand up your skirt?"

Yukhei's lips press against Johnny's earlobe, panting on the skin below it. Red blooms up and down Johnny's neck.

"Yeah—Yes— _Please._ Hyung, I'll die if you don't touch me, fuck."

Johnny chuckles, hand pressed against Yukhei's neck like a second choker. "I think you're," the hand slowly slithers down, over his hardened nipples, over his twitching abdomen, "being a little dramatic." His palm hovers close enough that when Yukhei cants his hips up, his dick bears against it. He shoves one of his between them to clutch Johnny's wrist, using his grip to keep it in place as he tries to relieve the pressure built up in his groin. Johnny's cock jerks in his pants at the shameless show of depravity.

"Does being all prettied up like this really make you that hard?" He pulls back to look at Yukhei's face; glossy mouth open, eyes lidded, cheeks reddened. "We should've done it sooner."

He actively palms Yukhei's cock now and buries his face into Yukhei's neck, navigating kisses between the wrapped string and playfully teething at it before letting it snap back into place. He shakes free his hand from Yukhei's grip and slips it under the skirt to grab the outlined bulge straining against the underwear—panties, really—and his fingertips find the wet spot that's steadily spreading. He thumbs against it, against Yukhei's dribbling tip, and Yukhei loops an arm under his own to clutch at his shoulder, baring his neck more and arching up.

"Wanna take them off, wanna feel you, hyung, please, I—"

"Take off... what?"

"The—The..."

"Skirt?"

_"No."_

Johnny shudders at the image of what's coming.

"Just the panties, then?"

"They're not—"

"They are."

_"Fuck."_

Fuck is right. "You really want me to fuck you with the skirt on, no panties, just—God, Yukhei." Johnny mouths at his clavicle, ravenous. "You sure you don't just want me to yank them aside? Don't want me to just fuck you like that?"

Yukhei breathes out colorful expletives, arching further, trying to beckon Johnny's mouth to his nipples. "That's— _Hyung._ Next time."

They haven't even gotten through _this_ time, and Yukhei wants a next time. Johnny's created a monster. He kisses down Yukhei's breastbone where he swears a heart hammers under his lips in time with his own. Adoration flutters in his chest.

"Next time," he agrees, and then pulls away completely.

Yukhei whines, throwing both arms over his eyes and uselessly rocking upwards after collapsing back onto the bed. His voice is watery when he speaks again.

"Stop teasing me, hyung."

Johnny wants to make him _cry._ But his dick is already begging to be balls deep in Yukhei's heat, so yeah. Next time.

He gets off the bed and goes into the bedside table for the lube, but when he glances over, a groan vibrates low in his throat at the erotic picture Yukhei makes: pink shirt stretched over his labored breaths, skirt hem strewn high enough to reveal the outline of his balls through the panties, legs parted, arms folded over his face where the flush refuses to be hidden and blooms down his neck. He grabs his camera first.

_Snap._

_"Hyung."_ Yukhei immediately props up, glaring. The sunlight falls over him perfectly in that moment, dazzling over every delicious wrinkle of clothing, every precious divot of skin. It even softens the agitated horniness on his expression, turning it into something sweetened and pleading.

_Snap._

"I will literally get out of this bed and—"

Johnny snorts and swaps the camera for the lube.

He mounts the bed again and splays a hand over Yukhei's firm chest, gently pushing him back into laying. Yukhei goes down with a pout, but Johnny kisses it away once before they lock eyes. Their lips then come together and part in soft, luscious smacks that they luxuriate in, mouths and tongues mapping each other out in every way possible.

Johnny is the one to finally pull away, and Yukhei chases his mouth, scowling petulantly when he's made to recline again. He settles between Yukhei's legs, lube at his knees, and reaches into the skirt to find the hem of the panties. His lifted wrists push the skirt up, revealing a small bow at the center-top of the panties, cuteness harshly offset by the wet patch that's grown since Johnny last felt it. He pulls them down without hesitation. Yukhei bleats, muffled into his wrist over his mouth, when his cock springs free. Johnny's hand cups around his own mouth, stomach flipping and dick pulsing.

"Oh my god, you really _did—"_

"It's just—"

"Did you hurt your—"

"No, I—"

A sweet keen devours Yukhei's words when Johnny bends over and noses into his smooth, plush mons above the base of his cock—citrus, intoxicating, drowns his senses instantly. He lavishes the skin with kisses, and Yukhei whines.

"Your mouth, ah, _fuck. Do_ something."

So Johnny does. He turns his head and mouths at the side of the base of Yukhei's cock, kissing it like he'd kissed his neck, his clavicle, down his chest. His hand loosely encircles it while his lips trail up to the tip, and he tongues at the slit where precum oozes ad infinitum; it's a sharp taste, but the scent of citrus—it must be some kind of baby oil, or, fuck, Johnny's own body wash, _shit—_ makes it _sweet,_ makes Yukhei _sweet._ His mouth closes around the swollen head.

Yukhei curses, gnawing on the back of his hand while the other clutches at the sheets. Johnny sinks all the way down once, twice, Yukhei's cock heavy on his tongue and nudging the back of his throat. It's not small by any means, but it's _them—_ he's had a lot of practice. He swallows around it, breathing through his nose, jaw working, and Yukhei bucks.

"I'll come if you—"

Johnny pulls off. He sits back, squeezing the base, and takes all of him in. It's still just as irresistible as it had been the first time he looked—Yukhei in this outfit, more debauched by the minute. Fuck, if the skirt had been over his _head..._

He curses, swatting away the image before he comes himself. He undoes his pants to relieve even the tiniest bit of pressure and then finally grabs the lube to waste no time in squeezing a generous dollop over one finger.

"No, three," Yukhei pants, peeking over his hand. "I—Before." He bashfully glances away.

On the medical clipboard, Johnny's cause of death will say, _"Died from lack of blood in cranium. It was all in his dick."_

He steadies himself with his clean hand on Yukhei's knee that's still upturned, waiting for the violent spell of dizzy arousal to pass before he goes to slick up three fingers instead of one. In anticipation, Yukhei's legs part further and he lifts one calf. Johnny easily grabs it to rest over his shoulder, fingers curling around his delicate ankle. He glances down.

Yukhei's hole, puckered and quivering, is already glistening.

_"Fuck."_

Yukhei's blush deepens to an almost worrying shade. Three fingers it is.

He's slow, but Yukhei skips right past pain to drown in pleasure, moaning the moment his rim stretches. Johnny watches, fascinated, as his fingers sink in with zero resistance, and—

"Jesus, how long did you—"

Yukhei ruts down, trying to swallow him deeper. "I'unno, thirty— _fuck, ah, oh,_ a little higher, please _—_ minutes maybe? Wasn't counting. Just wanted—"

Johnny does as asked, sinking deeper to curl his fingers—Yukhei _sings._ He presses into that spot again, and again, and again, drawing out sound after tantalizing sound. The camera begs to see this, but since it's too far away, this will just have to etch itself into his neurons forever; the depraved sight of Yukhei in a skirt and shirt like a second skin, attempting to fuck himself down on Johnny's fingers.

"I'm really gonna—"

Refusing to let it end now, Johnny grabs Yukhei's cock base again and pulls out his fingers with a squelch that makes both of them groan.

"Can't come if it's not on my dick," he says distractedly, finally shoving down his pants and underwear for his own cock to bounce free. Yukhei eyes it like he wants nothing more than to have it in his mouth, but that's—they'll have to save it for next time too. (Fuck, more pictures with Yukhei's thick lips stretched around his cock. Shit. _Fuck.)_

"Then _give_ it to me already, god. I—" He swallows thickly as he watches Johnny pump it with lube, one of his own hands tugging desperately at the hem of his shirt while the other yanks at the sheets. He glances at Johnny. "Please, hyung."

"Well," Johnny draws out the word to dangle its implications over Yukhei's head, who looks about ready to pounce and take his pleasure by force. "Since you have been _good..."_

The word blows Yukhei's pupils wide. "I have," he breathes, gripping at the disarrayed hem of his skirt, and he _lifts_ it. "I have, I've been so good, _please,_ god— _need_ you, hyung. Need you to fuck me."

The noise that rumbles out of the back of Johnny's throat is borderline inhuman. Yukhei's leg is still hooked over his shoulder, and he presses his big palm to Yukhei's other thigh, flattening it against the bed and exposing him even further, putting on show his obscenely winking hole, begging for something to fill it.

Deciding not to waste anymore time, Johnny prods at Yukhei's entrance with the head of his leaking cock, thick and painfully hard in his hand. Yukhei immediately tries to sink down despite not being able to in his position, and Johnny wants to laugh and coo at how endearing it is. Instead, he feeds the veiny shaft the rest of the way, amusement giving way to dizzying pleasure as he pushes into Yukhei's slick, tight heat.

"Fuck," he hisses, watching his length disappear inch by inch. "So tight, Hei." His hands itch for his camera again, but Yukhei would throttle him into the stratosphere if he pulled out to get it now. As it his, his back is arched, ass lifting fully off the bed while the tiny pink shirt strains distressingly, nipples truly trying to pebble their way free at this point.

The skirt flares up with the reversed slope of Yukhei's body, falling over his flexing abdomen instead and revealing his prettily blushing cock laying heavy against the upturned fabric, still shiny from when Johnny had sucked it.

Johnny bottoms out and Yukhei gasps, forearms pressing against the bed to keep bridged, and Johnny thinks it's a marvel that his back can bend this way, so flexible when he's desperate to be fucked. He'll eventually tire out like that, so Johnny loops his other arm under his other knee and pulls him closer until his ass is flush against Johnny's balls. Yukhei's hand slaps to his stomach.

"So deep," he gasps, and Johnny flashes by the verge of passing out once again. Yukhei glances up at him through glazing eyes. "Hyung, c'mon... We still have to take pictures afterwards..."

Johnny's cock twitches, balls tightening for a panicky moment because of the visions that flash through his mind.

When he recovers his composure, he grunts, "That's right, you like seeing what you look like all fucked out, huh?" He grinds to try and find the angle that will make Yukhei see stars. "You sure you don't want pictures now? Don't wanna see what you look like split open on my dick?"

Yukhei blubbers, swiveling his hips. Johnny thrusts again.

"You're taking me so well babe, you really like the skirt, huh?" Skin slapping together ricochets off the walls. "Should I buy you more? Keep you pretty for me all the time? Take you out like that? You want that, Hei?"

Yukhei moans, trying to pull the skirt down to hide himself despite his arms becoming increasingly clumsy. "That'd be so—ah, _fuck—perverted."_

Johnny laughs, broken up by the force of his thrusts. "You are kind of a pervert, baby. This was _your_ idea." He turns his head, kissing the knob of Yukhei's knee, slowing his strokes. "We could even put makeup on you—let me ruin your lipstick when you suck my dick."

"Oh god," Yukhei gasps, mouth dropping open like he's imagining it.

Johnny shifts the angle of his hips, and Yukhei's eyes fly open, his entire body jerking upwards, the leg hooked over Johnny's arm falling off until he's on his side, curling on himself. Johnny drops his other leg and instead lifts his knees and grips the backs of his thighs, pushing forward until Yukhei is folded in half, their faces inches from apart.

Yukhei's eyelids flit and he tilts his head up to try catching Johnny's mouth in another kiss. Johnny indulges him and leans down, but it's hardly what anyone could call a kiss—he ruts down again, leaving Yukhei's mouth to stay rounded open, trying to return what Johnny is giving, only to end up messily licking into his mouth instead. He clamps down like he wants Johnny to reach his guts, and Johnny grunts, eyes clenching close and brow furrowing with the effort to avoid coming then and there.

He pulls out of the kiss, hissing through gnashed teeth. Yukhei is flushed all the way to the tips of his adorable ears, lips kiss-swollen and spit-slick, and his half-lidded eyes struggle to focus on Johnny, pupils blown. Johnny kisses his jaw, down to his pulse, his adam's apple wrapped up in white string, gratifying in the salty taste of his skin.

Driving in slow but hard strokes punches Yukhei's thoughts out of his mouth, slurred.

"What if you," he gasps, baring his neck more, "if you came first?"

Johnny peeks up at him through bangs matted to his forehead. He doesn't stop moving his hips. "You want that?"

"I—ah—if it..." He swallows around pants, eyes pressing closed. "You could take pictures like... like that."

The words ram into Johnny like a freight train. Before he knows it, his balls tighten, his body jerks, and he almost collapses onto Yukhei, cock spurting thick, hot ropes of cum into his sweltering channel. Yukhei jerks too, yelping and writhing as if trying to get away, oversensitive, while tears finally spill out of his eyes.

"Hyung," he rasps wetly. _"Fuck."_

Johnny weakly thrusts on instinct, riding out the rest of his pleasure despite it being premature. He's not embarrassed—Yukhei is _hot,_ what else is he supposed to do?

When his cock is spent, he slowly pulls out, drawing a long groan from Yukhei as he tries to sit up and see the cum dribbling out of his hole now lewdly clenching around nothing.

"Fuck," Johnny says, more to himself, "you're so filthy."

Yukhei shakily reaches between his legs, scooping up some leaked cum and pushing it back into himself with another languid moan. Molten desire flares in Johnny's stomach and his cock twitches with quickly renewed interest.

"Hyung," Yukhei pants, lips parted as saliva gathers at the corners of his mouth, threatening to trickle out, "the cam... The camera, c'mon."

It's almost physically painful for Johnny to rip away from the pornographic sight Yukhei makes, but he'll regret it if he _doesn't_ capture the moment, so he straps his boxer briefs back up around his waist along with his unbuttoned pants and hurries to retrieve the camera.

Back at the edge of the bed with only a single knee propped on for balance, Johnny hurriedly fixes the focus. Warm, glazed oranges and faint blushing pinks swathe the room now, indigo undulating like gauzy velvet in the dreamy gradients. Dust motes catch in the setting radiance only every so often but seem to coalesce around Yukhei's head like a glittering halo made of holy static. Johnny forgets how to breathe for a moment.

_Snap._

Yukhei makes a muffled noise, now sitting up with knees spread wide, skirt fallen back over his stiff cock that pitches it. _Snap._ Two fingers quickly become three as he fucks Johnny's cum back into himself and creates the most vulgar noises Johnny has ever heard in his life. His head tilts back, the white string cutting into his neck, into the red welts Johnny put there, and the halo dissipates as his head and face are cast into shadow, lost by the camera.

_Snap._

Just then, Yukhei seems to find his prostate because his whole body spasms. He massages that single spot, head now tilting forward enough for the light to reflect off his swollen lips, where saliva has finally started to drip down his chin, brows tented, eyes closed.

 _Jesus, I'm coming up,_ Johnny thinks, and his finger trips up, taking two shots instead of one.

It spurs Yukhei on, three fingers clumsily becoming four greedily, fucking in and out of his hole with abandon as his other hand tears at the sheets.

"Hyung, hyung, hyung," he repeats senselessly. "Johnny-hyung, hyung, Johnny-hyung. More, hyung, I need—I need—"

Johnny is achingly hard again, cock straining against his underwear, but he holds back, gripping onto the camera and lens like a lifeline.

"Touch yourself." His voice is low and rough, and he hardly recognizes it.

"I'll come," Yukhei cries, but doesn't stop shoving his fingers in and out of himself. "I'll—"

"Don't argue with me. Up on your knees, c'mon."

"But I—"

"You wanna be good don't you?"

Yukhei immediately scrambles into position, falling apart at the seams but voracious to please, and rests his bare ass on his heels where translucent fabric slips against his skin. He flicks the skirt away, revealing his ruddy cock now constantly drippy with precum, and then reaches behind himself to shove his fingers back in. _Snap._

He arches his back and his shirt rises higher, waist accentuated, nipples and pectorals sharply outlined by both the fabric and the dying light. Johnny fights away the urge to decorate his pretty chest with more cum, especially since he looks like he's just a few pumps away from doing that himself. _Snap._

His long fingers on his other hand wrap tightly around his needy cock, pulling and twisting and smearing the precum up and down to leave it glistening. Johnny watches as his body struggles with which way it wants to go—further onto his fingers, or deeper into his fist. _Snap._

"Hyung, I need," his head rolls off to the side. "I'm really gonna— _Hyung."_

The desperation and sobs in his voice thrill through Johnny's blood and sing up and down his spine. _Snap._

"Alright, okay. I got you, baby. Hold on."

He quickly puts the camera back down, dick besting his brain when the odds were never fair, and hurriedly climbs back on, freeing himself once more. Yukhei whines brokenly when he swats his hand free of his dick and jerks his other hand away from his ass.

"Here, on me."

Yukhei's hands are quick to clutch his shoulders, perilous stance balancing forward. Wasting no more time, Johnny grips both of their cocks and squeezes them together before reaching around to push three of his own, thicker fingers in. Yukhei sobs onto his shoulder, drooling over the fabric, and decidedly loses all composure when Johnny starts to jerk them off, fucking his fingers in simultaneously.

"Johnny-hyung, Johnny-hyung, Johnny, Johnny, _Johnny—"_

His wanton cries echo through the room, pitching higher and faster until he finally seizes up, viciously biting down on Johnny's shirt and screaming into it. Hot spunk spills over Johnny's hand and slicks up his hold, spurting onto both of their shirts, and when Yukhei's hole clenches vice around his fingers, he comes again too, whitening out.

For a long moment of only them two existing, exhausted pants fill the room. They lean into each other while Johnny listlessly pushes his fingers in and out of Yukhei, drawing out the remnants of his orgasm. Yukhei turns his head to bury into Johnny's neck, lips moving languidly in poor lieu of a kiss, noises weakly dripping out of his mouth, muttering barely coherent words about being hypersensitive between soft cries. He slumps over entirely.

"Whoa, okay," Johnny says hoarsely, bracing his thighs against giving out. He gently pulls his fingers out and wipes them on his own shirt, and then frees his other hand to steady Yukhei back onto his heels. "There we go, good boy." He uses his mostly clean hand to wipe at the tear tracks staining Yukhei's cheeks. "With me, sweetheart?"

Yukhei's eyes are glassy and faraway, face utterly wrecked, but he nods. Johnny leans back to assess the damage and sees that Yukhei did indeed shoot over both of them. The haphazard patterns on the pink shirt are—pretty, salacious as they are.

"Hang in there, babe."

"Wanna lay down..."

"I'll get you, lemme just—"

Johnny, legs like jelly, pushes off the bed one more time, picks up the camera, and aims it. Through the lens, Yukhei makes a stunning picture—skirt flipped back over his spent cock, thighs slick with lube and Johnny's cum that creamily drips onto the bed sheets, shirt sullied with both their releases and thoroughly rumpled, neck ravished, face tear-stained and rosy, skin sweaty.

Puffy eyes curving beautifully, Yukhei smiles a languorous, darling thing.

...And puts up a peace sign.

_Snap._

**Author's Note:**

> SO! this was actually inspired by a twitter post of a tumblr post by a person i don't follow and spurred on by my absolute need to have lucas in a skirt. i am a luten fucker thru and thru but man do i just ship lucas with literally everyone i want everyone to love him! anyway i know johncas aint that popular but hey maybe you should consider... maybe. it could also be the gateway to me actually liking johnten lmfao if i just. use polyamory. ANYWAY. send me stuff on curiouscat! maybe even prompts!!! also yes i did insert a totally hentai moment there at the end i will make hentai protag lucas our reality trust and believe in hentai protag lucas
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/LUKAILOFI) // [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/raviel)


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